


Fever

by kinsale_42



Series: McHanzo [7]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Anniversary of first date, Cuddles, Domestic Fluff, Dubious nano-medical theory, Fluff, Illness, M/M, Pure gratuitous self-indulgence, Ramen, Romantic Fluff, lots of text messages
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-09
Updated: 2019-01-09
Packaged: 2019-10-06 17:42:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17349677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinsale_42/pseuds/kinsale_42
Summary: Hanzo gets sick and Jesse shows up just in time to take care of him through the worst of it.I needed something warm and comforting to get me through the darkest part of the year. And it's been a year since my first McHanzo, so this is a little acknowledgement of that.Note: Hanzo does throw up once but it's not very graphic.





	Fever

_I am home._

Jesse grinned when he opened the text message, and his nose crinkled with pleasure at the accompanying photograph. It was one of Hanzo's characteristic selfies: a tiny corner of his face, usually an eye and eyebrow, with the out-of-focus background vaguely indicating his location.

He typed out a reply. _Nearly done here. Should be back with you within 48 hrs._ Then as an afterthought, he sent one more. _Missed ya._

They'd agreed that they needed to continue to pursue the independent jobs that enabled them to both survive and volunteer time to helping the old Overwatch gang, even though agreement didn't really seem to make it easier to live with being away from each other. So while Hanzo was out collecting bounties on high value villains, Jesse went back to digging for the truth and selling it to the folks he thought should know. It didn’t help that when they were apart, it was hard for Jesse to forget his past and to remember that he had a brighter future than he'd ever expected.

Especially since Egypt.

With his phone well-secured in its hidden inside pocket, Jesse leaned onto the bar of the back-alley tavern and emptied his glass. _Fuck Reyes,_ he thought. _Fuck the nightmares._

The room shifted slightly around him as the whiskey spun its magic in his blood. As he stood up and fished out a few coins to tip the bartender, he was struck by a dire longing to be with Hanzo, and it took more than the usual amount of effort to keep a straight face and walk calmly away.

*

_1:28 pm: Just arrived. See you in an hour?_

_1:40 pm: Han?_

Hanzo picked up his phone from where he'd tossed it on the bedside table. The time stamps on Jesse's messages made him groan. He'd been dead to the world and completely missed them. Well, forty minutes late was better than never, right?

_Yes._ He struggled for a minute to think of how to phrase an explanation. Why was his brain so foggy? _Apologize. Tired, sleeping._ He hit send before he realized he meant "apologies," not "apologize."

Hanzo's phone flashed a low battery warning. He sighed and returned it to the nightstand. He didn't want to move. He was already asleep when Jesse's reply came, five minutes later.

_If you sleep now, you might just be up all night. 'Course, you might be anyway. *wink*_

_  
_ *

The apartment was very quiet when Jesse opened the door. Ordinarily, this would not have been entirely unexpected, but the lights were all off and the air felt chill and dead, and after the delayed and atypical response to his texts, it set Jesse's senses on edge. He closed the door silently behind him and lowered his bag to the floor, preparing himself for the worst. He peeked into the small galley kitchen. There were a few dishes and mugs in the sink, and an empty take-out container on the counter. Jesse swallowed back against the apprehension. Something wasn't right here at all.

The living room was silent and empty, but the gray December afternoon gave Jesse just enough light to see more subtle indicators of disarray. He crept through towards the bedroom.

There was a large lump under the duvet, and he could just see Hanzo's hair fanned out on the pillow. The lump shifted as Hanzo breathed, and Jesse relaxed a little. Something was still out of place here, but at least Hanzo was alive.

He sat down on the edge of the bed and brushed the hair back from Hanzo's face, and was startled at the heat of his lover's skin. Hanzo stirred at his touch.

"Hey, baby. You feeling okay? You're burning up." Jesse's voice was soft and concerned.

Hanzo's eyes opened as he leaned into the cool reassurance of Jesse's fingers. "Jesse," he whispered. "I am...I think...not well." He tried to sit up, and went immediately pale. His arm shot out, flailing for something, and Jesse instinctively grabbed the bucket that was next to his feet. He'd noticed it without noticing it, and now as Hanzo retched, he understood its purpose.

Jesse vanished but quickly returned with a glass of water and a wet cloth, and took away the bucket to empty it. When he came back, Hanzo was lying back on the pillows, looking even more drained than before. Jesse sat back down beside him.

"Better?" he asked. This was all a bit worrying. He'd never seen Hanzo ill, and in their line of work, it could be a virus or it could be poison. But an illness, natural or otherwise, certainly explained all the things amiss in the apartment.

Hanzo nodded weakly. Jesse turned on the bedside light, and was distressed to see just how pale his partner was.

"I arrived home Tuesday. By last night, I felt...very bad. I hurt...all over. Was hot." Hanzo made a vague gesture. Jesse got the sense that speaking was difficult.

"Shhh, love. I'll make you some of your ginger tea, okay? You just rest."

Hanzo nodded again. Jesse tried to smile, and hoped it was reassuring. Once out in the kitchen, he pulled out his phone as the kettle heated up.

_2:52 pm: Angela. Need some advice._ He kicked off his boots and hung up his coat and hat as he waited for a response. He didn't have to wait long.

_2:59 pm: What's up, Jesse?_

He pictured Angela Ziegler working in her lab late at night, typing her notes with those wire rimmed glasses perched on her nose.

_3:04 pm: Hanzo's sick. Fever, nausea, body aches, maybe sore throat? As far as I can tell he's been sleeping all day. Is there some way to tell if it's a virus or polonium? Or some organic chemical?_

The next reply came almost immediately.

_3:06 pm: Sounds like influenza, but the symptoms are not greatly different from radiation poisoning, aside from blood in vomit and stool, and hair falling out. If there is fever, it is less likely to be a chemical poisoning. How long has he been ill?_

Jesse poured boiling water over a teabag, and as it steeped, he sent his reply.

_3:09 pm: He's been sick since yesterday, apparently. He just threw up and there was no blood in it._ He thought of the black hair shot through with silver that he'd seen on Hanzo's pillow. It had been a bit greasier than usual, but it all still appeared to be attached to his beautiful head.

_3:10 pm: And his hair isn't falling out._

After stirring a drop of honey into the tea, Jesse picked up his phone and the mug and padded back into the bedroom. Hanzo's eyes were closed, but he hadn't moved otherwise. Jesse set the mug down next to him and read Angela's latest message.

_3:13 pm: Most likely influenza. Keep him hydrated, watch his temperature, and listen to his breathing. I can send you some information about what to do and when to seek care. It may not be too late for a course of antivirals if you get him to a doctor today._

Jesse felt more relieved. He knew it wasn't the same as Angela actually examining Hanzo and declaring a diagnosis, but just getting the reassurance that this wasn't an automatic death sentence took some weight off his head.

_3:19 pm: Thanks, Doc._

There was a bleep that let him know he'd received a secure document, and then one more message from the doctor.

_3:24 pm: Don't forget to take care of yourself, too. I haven't seen you sick in the last ten years that I can recall, and I gave you a flu shot this year myself, but nothing is a guarantee. I gave Hanzo his flu shot too, and he is ill. I will be here if you have questions._

Jesse sat down again on the bed, handed his boyfriend the warm mug, and tapped out one last message.

_3:26 pm: You're the best, Doc._

Hanzo sipped tentatively at his tea while Jesse reviewed the information Angela had sent him.

“Angela says if we get you in to see the doc right away, they'll probably get you on antivirals and you will feel better sooner.” Jesse looked hopeful.

Hanzo's forehead wrinkled and he peered into his cup of tea. He already felt so miserable he couldn't imagine trying to survive a waiting room at a clinic and an examination, much less the fuss required to get there and back. “I would rather stay home,” he managed.

Jesse chewed on his lip for a minute as he decided whether to argue the point or to move on to the next option. Hanzo looked so rumpled and distressed that he decided to go to plan B.

“Do you have a thermometer, Han?” he asked. Hanzo shook his head. No. “Hmm. I'll need to go to the store to pick up a few things. Will you be okay for a bit? Is there anything you want that I can bring back?”

Hanzo nodded at the first question and shook his head at the second. All he wanted was to sleep. Sleep was proving to be the best way to escape the discomfort of his illness, even if it only happened in short bursts, even if his feverish dreams were a little weird.

Jesse looked searchingly into his face for a moment, then leaned over and dropped a gentle kiss on his forehead. “I'll be back soon, I promise.”

“Thank you,” Hanzo murmured as Jesse got up to go.

“Of course, darlin’. Anything for you.” Jesse gave him that familiar lopsided grin, and then he was gone. There was a quiet click as the front door closed, and Hanzo suddenly felt more alone than he had before Jesse had arrived in the first place.

*

Jesse's path back from the nearest grocery store led him past Hanzo's favorite ramen shop, and on impulse he turned and went inside. The hostess greeted him politely as always, but he could tell she was looking behind him for Hanzo.

“Good evening. Is your friend not with you today?”

“Ah, no,” Jesse replied. “Actually, that's sorta why I stopped in. He's sick, and I need something that'll help him get well. Some ramen? His favorite, I think. Extra noodles.”

The hostess’ face registered a kaleidoscope of emotions as he explained his predicament. “Of course! Our broths are very hearty and restorative. A number four, to go, extra noodles. It will be just a few minutes.” She rang up his order, then smiled and slipped out from behind the counter to deliver it to the kitchen. Jesse sat down in the chair closest to the door to wait. It didn't take nearly as long as he expected for the young woman to bring out a small sack with his tub of hot soup and box of noodles in it.

“Tell your friend we send our best wishes for his recovery. He is a good and loyal customer.” She bowed slightly.

“Thank you, I will.” Jesse peeked into the sack. There was more in it than just the containers of ramen. There were tea packets, some crackers, a handful of tiny candies, and something small and round and wrapped in foil.

“We slipped in a few extra things,” the hostess said. “To remind him of home and help him get well. No one likes to be ill away from home.” She smiled.

“Well now, that's very kind of you. I will be sure to let him know you thought of him.” Jesse smiled gratefully. “Thank you so much,” he said, and opened the door to go.

*

Hanzo drifted back up from the edge of sleep when he heard the apartment door click closed. He screwed his eyes shut as he tried to get the room to stop spinning, and then he felt the pressure on the edge of the bed and forced himself to open them again.

“Hey,” Jesse said gently. “I brought you all kinds of presents. But first, I need to know what your temperature is, so pop this under your tongue for a second.” He held out a little rubber wand with a steel tip. Grudgingly Hanzo allowed it in his mouth. It only took a few seconds to register his temperature, and when it beeped, Jesse slid it out and checked the display. “Yeah, that’s definitely a fever. So the doc says fluids, meds to help with the symptoms, and lots of rest. Think we can manage that?”

Hanzo attempted a nod.

“Good! I stopped on the way back and got you some ramen. I expect you’re not real hungry, but maybe you can try to get a little of the broth down. Your body needs the energy and I bet it would help your throat feel better. And they were asking about you at the restaurant, and sent you some tea and other goodies.” Jesse smiled. “I’ll be right back.”

He was as good as his word, and back almost before Hanzo had fully appreciated that he’d left the room. He had a bowl in one hand and a paper sack in the other. Jesse set the bowl down, and from the sack he removed a packet of crackers, apparently an Asian version of saltines, a few of the individually wrapped candies, and the foil-wrapped lump.

“I don’t know what this is,” Jesse said, unwrapping the foil to reveal a wrinkled object.

Hanzo smiled faintly. “Umeboshi,” he replied. “Some say it will cure any illness. It is a pickle.”

“Oh!” Jesse looked at it curiously. “Do you just eat it?”

Hanzo licked his dry lips. His stomach roiled just thinking about eating. “You can make tea with it. I might be able to drink a bit of that.”

“Ah, okay. Well, first, want to try some of this broth?”

Hanzo conceded. A few sips perhaps, he thought. It smelled okay. And Jesse looked so worried. He’d just have to be careful that he didn’t try to eat too much and make himself violently ill again.

Five spoonfuls and two crackers later, Jesse let him give up. He managed to swallow down some meds to help his head and body aches, and settled back under the duvet while Jesse returned to the kitchen with the uneaten food.

*

Jesse cleared up the scattered tissues and clothing from the bedroom floor, then acted on a flash of an idea, pulling a clean red bandana out of his pocket to drape it over the lamp next to the bed. It softened the light against Hanzo’s face, blurring his edges, reducing the strain on his eyes. Jesse brushed the hair back from Hanzo’s forehead, using the opportunity to check on his temperature. Still warm. He sighed and smoothed the duvet across Hanzo’s shoulders before leaving him to rest.

Back in the living room he settled in with a beer and his phone, flicking through the files he’d collected on his most recent expedition. He wasn’t sure if it was going to get him what he needed, but… His mind wandered. Jesse found himself trying to remember the last time he got sick, really sick, more than a sniffle that faded after two or three days. There was that one time when he was a kid, what, ten or eleven? He remembered the projectile vomit with a chuckle. Unfortunate.

Somehow he’d managed to survive his entire tenure with the Deadlock Gang with little more than a half-remembered head cold or two. Their conspicuous consumption of beer and spirits must have killed most of the circulating viruses.

And then when he’d joined Overwatch… Joined. Yeah. For all the organization had done for him in the twenty years since they’d picked him up, he couldn’t overcome the faint bitterness he always felt when he thought about the way he’d been assimilated. Anyway, they’d organized him, and put him through medical, and as he recalled he’d gotten the flu within the next month. He couldn’t remember being truly ill since. It hadn’t bothered him, because why would you be mad about feeling fine? But now that the issue had been raised, and knowing what military orgs were like with experimenting on their soldiers, he was starting to wonder what Overwatch medical had slipped him without transparent disclosure.

_6:21 pm: Angela, when was the last time I got sick?_

He sent the message and then realized it was still the wee hours of the night in Switzerland.

_6:24 pm: Not urgent, sorry. Forgot the time difference._

Jesse stood up and stretched. The lights of the city were bright outside the now-warm square of Hanzo’s small apartment. He gazed out between the buildings for a few minutes before closing the blinds, then grabbed his jacket and boots.

“I’m going for a smoke,” he called out before slipping out into the hallway.

*

When he returned, Jesse felt more composed. He hung up his coat and set his boots on the rack by the door, then went immediately to check on his patient. Hanzo opened his eyes as Jesse leaned over him.

“Can I take your temperature again, sugar?” Jesse asked. It had been an hour, and the over-the-counter pain meds might have also helped with the fever. Hopefully.

Hanzo’s head moved slightly and he opened his mouth to receive the thermometer. It beeped a moment later and Jesse held the device closer to the light to read the display.

“Well, it’s a half a degree lower. I guess that’s good. Want some tea or ginger ale? Or just water?”

Hanzo tried to speak but had to cough to clear his throat. “Ginger ale.”

“Okay, good, I’ll be right back.”

As Hanzo sipped on his ginger ale, Jesse dragged the bentwood easy chair in from the living room and threw a blanket across the arm.

“I’m going to hang out in here, if that’s okay. I can sleep on the couch if I need to, but this chair is pretty comfortable and I can be right here if you need me without crowding you on the bed.” He went back into the living room to fetch his bag. There was a loud thump from the bedroom, and he rushed back in to find Hanzo on the floor.

“What happened, love?” Jesse patted him all over, making sure he was still in one piece.

“I have to pee,” Hanzo admitted in a whisper. “I stood up and the room went sideways.”

Jesse gave him a little hug and helped him to his feet, and then into the bathroom. When he was finished, Jesse made sure he was safe and snug under the covers before pulling some fresh underwear out of his bag.

“Are you set for a bit now, love? I’m gonna take a quick shower.”

A little mumbling sound came from the direction of the pillow. Jesse took it as an affirmative and headed for the bathroom. As the hot water streamed over him, he began to arrange the next few days in his mind as if he were planning an op, and suddenly he was struck by how strange the situation was. In a way, looking after his boyfriend during his illness _was_ like an op, but it was also an extremely domestic undertaking, and somehow that was new. He could remember certain times in his life where domesticity seemed an appealing prospect, but he never imagined himself as the caregiver, and then at some point he’d given up on the idea altogether. But he supposed he and Hanzo had been heading this way from the beginning, gradually infiltrating each other’s daily existence. There were all those times when Hanzo had nudged him to take care of things that he would have gotten to eventually on his own, but usually only at the very last moment when they really needed to be dealt with. Getting his hair trimmed. Eating vegetables. Hell, sometimes just eating and sleeping.

Jesse considered the peace he felt in Hanzo’s apartment. They weren’t exactly living together; it was more that Jesse would come and stay for a couple of weeks at a time. Compared to the bleak little studio apartment he called his base of operations in New Mexico, Hanzo’s home was heaven. He couldn’t even imagine showing Hanzo his place, much less inviting him to stay.

By the time he shut off the water and grabbed a towel, he was contemplating finding more welcoming accomodations in Santa Fe. He could afford it, he just didn’t have much in the way of possessions to make it feel like a home. And he’d lived so long on the edge of having to disappear that keeping his footprint small had always seemed like the more practical consideration. But he was getting older. His life was a little less fraught, even as the world around him grew more chaotic. Maybe it was time… Jesse stepped out into the hallway in his shorts, with the towel around his neck. He grabbed a fresh one out of the linen closet and hung it up to replace the one he’d used, then dropped his damp one in the laundry basket in Hanzo’s closet.

“Fuck, I’ve gone totally house-husband over here,” he snickered under his breath. He reached into his bag and pulled out his last clean t-shirt. As he straightened up and pulled it on over his head, he noticed that Hanzo was curled up in a tighter ball than he had been before.

Jesse leaned over the bulk of his boyfriend’s shoulder to find his face, and was startled to see him shaking.

“Hey, baby, what’s going on?” he asked gently, stroking his patient’s flushed cheek.

Hanzo blinked. “Cold,” he murmured, and screwed his eyes tightly closed again. It was all he needed to say, and in an instant Jesse was under the covers and wrapped around him, his shower-warmed body transferring much needed heat. He held Hanzo for a long while, close against his chest, and he could feel the fluttering of Hanzo’s rapid pulse as his body struggled to cope with its affliction. In that time he made the decision that even if he didn’t put down more significant roots in New Mexico, he needed to make more of an effort to let Hanzo know where to find him. Jesse was finally realizing that fear of losing each other was going to be an ever-present companion for them both. If he could ease that ache for Hanzo, why wouldn’t he?

At last, Hanzo’s limbs began to relax into Jesse’s embrace, and his breathing began to slow as he fell asleep. Jesse could hear sniffling noises that suggested congestion was building in his head, but there was no obvious indications that his lungs were in any distress. Angela’s checklist of symptoms were on a constant loop in Jesse’s head, underlying every other thought that passed through, and he kept comparing it to what Hanzo appeared to be suffering. He was going to be okay. He was strong and otherwise healthy, and Jesse was here to take care of him, so there was no way that a little flu could knock out Hanzo.

Could it?

Jesse lost track of how long Hanzo had apparently been asleep while he went round and round in his mind, trying to silence his doubts. He was also reluctant to let go of his lover, warm and soft against his chest, and lingered in the bed well past when he had planned to extract himself to give Hanzo space. Finally he convinced himself that if he didn’t move, Hanzo would soon wake up overheated and the fever/chills cycle would just repeat itself. Jesse left a little kiss on his lover’s neck and slipped out from under the duvet.

He shivered a bit himself as he scrounged for something comfortable to throw on over his underwear. His bag was soon emptied into a pile on the floor, and nothing was clean enough to wear. Jesse sighed and bundled it all down the hall to dump it in the washing machine, then stopped himself before he hit the start button. All those times Hanzo had combined Jesse’s laundry with his...he really ought to check and see if Hanzo had anything that needed to be washed too. He peered into the washer to gauge the average color of the load. Anything blue.

Having found a few more things and started the machine, he returned to the walk-in closet to see if any of Hanzo’s clothes would serve as temporary loungewear. He came out wearing a soft, dark gray hoodie and some baggy yellow shorts, and padded silently over to the chair he’d set up to keep watch. Once he’d settled in, he unlocked his phone to check his messages.

_8:48 pm: I reviewed the records last night after you contacted me. Your last viral illness was eleven years ago, assuming you haven’t had any since you were released from duty. The last time you had influenza was shortly after your intake._

Jesse considered the timeline for a few minutes, and then sent a follow-up question.

_9:21 pm: Does that seem reasonable to you?_

His phone vibrated at an incoming message, but it wasn’t from Angela. It was from Lena.

_9:24 pm: HEY BUDDY I was just going through some old snaps and thought you’d like this one ;)_

Jesse flicked open the photograph and had to stifle a laugh. It was a snapshot she’d snuck on his first night out with Hanzo. It hadn’t really been a date...just a drink after work, really. His face felt warm as the image brought it all back. She’d caught an amazing candid shot, actually. Hanzo’s face was lit up as he looked at the food in front of him, and Jesse, well, he was obviously captivated as he gazed at Hanzo. He shook his head, unable to wipe the grin from his face.

_9:29 pm: Thanks, Lena, it’s gorgeous. I’ll have to show it to Hanzo when he wakes up._

_9:32 pm: Happy anniversary, btw. Can’t believe it’s been a year. Glad I could help. <3 _

What did she mean, anniversary? Wait, a year since they’d first gone out? Damn! Where had the time gone?

_9:34 pm: Thanks! I hadn’t realized. And yeah, you always manage to speed things along, don’t ya?_

His phone buzzed in his hand almost immediately, and he chuckled softly, expecting a snarky reply from his swift friend. But instead it was a rather lengthy reply from Angela.

_9:35 pm: With your sustained proximity to Gabriel, it’s not entirely surprising. I’ve done a little work on the peripheral effects of nano-medicine, and it’s likely there was some transference between the two of you. Anyone who undergoes nano-enhancement is going to shed, and some of those nanites will find a hospitable environment to make their new home. The SEP enhancements were so robust and concentrated, I suspect the shed organisms were heartier and more numerous. One sneeze would have given you a few. Hundreds of sneezes, handshakes, etc., over fifteen years? Likely enough to bolster your immune system._

Jesse grimaced at the “etcetera.” But then something occurred to him. If he was carrying Gabe’s damn nanites, he’d be shedding them too, right? So was he leaving traces of Gabe everywhere, confounding their own forensics?

_9:42 pm: Does that mean I’m leaving evidence of Gabe everywhere I go? And Genji, and Hanzo? Anyone I’ve had contact with who had some form of nano-enhancement?_ Jesse sighed heavily. He didn’t like how this was going.

_9:46 pm: I’d have to run some tests to tell you for sure, but from what I’ve seen, the nanite signatures are a result of the organisms combining with the host cells. So once the nanite bonds with your cells, it will have a signature unique to you, regardless of its source. And I believe the Shimada enhancements were very targeted, meant purely to augment agility and flexibility, so their treatment was unlikely to be as thorough as what Jack and Gabriel went through, and thus much less likely for you to have acquired any great number of them. But you’d have to ask Hanzo._

_9:52 pm: If it makes you feel any better, you probably do not carry more than a measurable trace. Enough to boost your immune system, because of course the nanites wish to continue operation, but not enough to alter your basic functioning. I can run those tests sometime if you’d like to know more, but be warned that it may leave you with more questions._

_9:54 pm: Thanks Doc. I’ll think about it._

_10:00 pm: How’s your patient?_

_10:04 pm: Fever and chills mostly. Got some soup into him, and something for his aches and pains. About time for me to check again._

_10:07 pm: Sounds good. Let me know if you need anything._

_10:08 pm: Will do. Thanks._

Jesse flipped back to the photograph of himself and Hanzo in the karaoke bar and tried to remember what it felt like that night. A bit of the magic got under his skin again, and even when he got up to stick the thermometer under Hanzo’s tongue, it stayed with him.

No change. Jesse frowned slightly.  

“Let me get you something to drink,” he said. He moved to stand up but Hanzo moved faster, wrapping his arms around Jesse's waist. The fever dreams had been wild; he couldn't remember what had happened in them but he needed comfort. He needed peace.

Jesse stroked his back. “Aw, love. I'll be right back, I promise.”

“Come to bed,” Hanzo said, Jesse's stomach muffling his already-quiet voice.

“Okay, I will. Let me get you a drink, and put the laundry in the dryer, then I'll come to bed.” He smoothed Hanzo's hair, calming the wild spikes that so many hours against the pillow had created. After a minute or two, the arms around his middle released him, and Jesse got up to do what he needed to do.

Once everything was settled for the night, he switched on the radio, tuning it to the BBC World Service and dialing the volume down low enough that he couldn't really hear what the announcer was saying. He set the sleep timer for an hour and crawled into bed next to Hanzo. It had been a while since he wanted the background noise, but tonight he needed something to distract his mind, and the muted rumble of the clothes dryer just wasn't quite the thing.

He'd barely stretched out when he felt Hanzo's hand slip across his chest. Jesse covered it with his own, and they lay like that for at least as long as he was fully conscious.

Then something brought him back to awareness. He didn't feel like he'd done more than doze a bit, but the room was silent: no dryer, no radio. Then Jesse realized he couldn't hear Hanzo breathing, and turned to find the bed empty beside him. He threw back the covers and began to search for his patient.

It didn't take long to go through the dark and quiet apartment. He found Hanzo sitting on the floor of the bathroom, elbows on his knees, hands buried in his hair.

“Whatcha doin’, love?” he asked.

Hanzo looked up at him, his face still pale and tired. “I felt sick,” he said, then turned and coughed into his arm.

Jesse dropped to his knees beside him and gently rubbed his back. “I thought that's why we had the bucket?”

“You were sleeping.”

“Awww. Did you have to throw up?”

Hanzo shook his head. “I have not.”

“Still feel like you're going to?” Jesse stifled a yawn.

He thought for a moment. “Not as much.”

“How long have you been sitting here, pumpkin?”

Hanzo merely shrugged.

“Let's get back to bed, then.” Jesse stood up and gave Hanzo a hand, correctly assuming his muscles were stiff from sitting on the cold tile. Once back to the bed, Hanzo didn't even give Jesse a chance to try and take his temperature. He grabbed the thermometer himself and stuck it in his mouth until it beeped, then handed it to Jesse to see the result.

“Down a little bit. I guess sitting on the bathroom floor cooled you down. How do you feel?” Jesse returned the thermometer as he sat in bed, adjusting a pillow between his back and the wall.

“Cold,” replied Hanzo.

A small, sad smile flashed across Jesse's face. “C'mere,” he said, pulling Hanzo to sit between his thighs. “When I was little, and I didn't feel good, my mom would get in bed with me and lean me back against her chest, and she'd tell me stories.” He slipped his arms around Hanzo's torso and held him snug against his chest. “And I used to love how I could feel her voice through my back. She had the best voice, a little dark and smoky like that toasted sugar on top of crème brûlée, with that East Texas accent that would warm you straight through.”

Hanzo leaned his head against his lover's neck as he talked. He was experiencing everything Jesse was describing, and he thought it was just as perfect as it sounded. The dizziness was coming and going, but he was getting warm again and relaxing into Jesse's embrace.

“Whiskey,” he murmured.

“What's that, Han?” Jesse asked.

“Your voice,” Hanzo answered, “Is whiskey. And butter toffee.”

Jesse smiled, with no trace of sadness this time. Then his expression turned more thoughtful.

“Hanzo?”

“Hmmm?”

“Do you ever think about how much time we've spent being afraid we're going to lose each other? Like after Gibraltar, and then Ilios. Hell, when I got here and found you so ill, the first thing I did was ask Angela what the symptoms of radiation poisoning were.” Jesse was a little sheepish, but he owned his fear.

“Mmmm. Do I have radiation poisoning?” Hanzo asked, his voice betraying his sleepiness.

“Unlikely. You'd be bleeding out of every orifice by now, I expect. And I'd probably be feeling unwell too. And I feel fine.” But that's another matter, Jesse thought.

“Mm, that is good.”

Jesse continued along his line of thought, not so much ignorant of Hanzo falling asleep as just needing to talk through his thoughts. “Maybe it is good. Having a bit of that fear, I mean. Because every time I feel it, I remember why I like being with you and why I don't want to be without you.” He extricated his good arm to scratch his head, then draped it loosely across Hanzo's chest. “As long as the stress doesn't wear us out, I guess. Although it might work in our favor, since we kinda live our lives on adrenaline anyway.”

Then he realized the situation he'd gotten himself in, with a heavy sleeping lover pinning him in place. Unperturbed by his limbs slowly going numb, Jesse made a mental note to buy one of those large, cushioned lounge chairs for his theoretical new apartment, so they could sit together like this more often. His mind wandered, and he drifted along the borders of sleep himself.

A burst of coughing woke them both, and Hanzo climbed out of his boyfriend’s arms and swallowed down the last of his ginger ale in attempt to soothe his throat. Jesse shook off the drowsiness and ignored the pins and needles as he padded out to the kitchen to make more tea. When he returned with a fresh cup, he also carried a few of the candies the restaurant had given him.

“I brought these too. I don’t know what they are, but I thought maybe you would like one.”

Hanzo took one from him and read the wrapper. “Green tea candy,” he said, his voice as raw as his throat. “Thank you.” He took a sip of steaming ginger tea and then unwrapped a candy and put it in his mouth. The room was spinning again, and he wished it would just stop. After another sip of tea, swirled this time around the sweet in his cheek, he slid back down under the duvet.

“I got some cough medicine at the store. I’ve been holding off on giving you too much medicine with your stomach being sensitive, but if you think you can keep it down, I’ve got it.” Jesse felt a little like he’d been withholding treatment, but it had been in Angela’s instructions to administer medication “as the patient can tolerate it.” He hovered, indecisive. Hanzo peeked at him over the edge of the duvet.

“Do you have the sort that will make me sleep?”

“I have that stuff, yeah. Is that what you want?”

There was a small nod from the general direction of the pillow. “Yes.”

“Okay.” Jesse went to grab the box from where he’d left it, and popped a dose out of the foil packet. Hanzo sat up again, and swallowed it down with some tea. Even in the low light, Hanzo’s eyes seemed glassy and a little unfocused, and Jesse tried not to worry. How long had this fever been burning? How long would it go on before it became too much? He waited until Hanzo had settled again, and then he smoothed the edge of the duvet over Hanzo’s shoulder. If the medicine worked, he was going to be out for a while. Jesse got comfortable in the chair with his phone and prepared to wait it out.

*

Daylight had been peeking in around the blinds for more than a couple of hours when Hanzo finally returned to full consciousness. He almost felt human again, but his attempt to stretch triggered another brief coughing spell, and even that small exercise left him feeling drained. He sighed.

Jesse heard the coughing and peeked into the bedroom. “Good morning, love! How are you feeling?” He came over and leaned over his patient. He was heartened to see Hanzo’s eyes no longer looked so glassy, and his face was not so pale.

“A little less terrible,” Hanzo replied. He sat up and swung his feet to the floor, and the room remained delightfully stationary. The thermometer on the nightstand caught his eye, and he shoved it in his mouth and pressed the button. It beeped and he handed it to Jesse, who grinned.

“Much better,” he said. “Almost normal!”

“Heh,” said Hanzo. “As if I have ever been normal.” He stood up, grabbing Jesse’s shoulder for balance as he found he was still a little unsteady on his feet, then let go to make his way to the bathroom. When he returned, he climbed straight back into bed.

Jesse sat down beside him, ready to administer whatever care his lover required.

“You do not need to look after me, Jesse. I will be fine on my own. I am sure there is much you could be doing elsewhere.” Hanzo began to cough, and Jesse waited for the coughing to subside before he replied.

“I want to, silly thing. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I care about how you’re feeling. And maybe I’m a few sandwiches short of a picnic, but I’d rather be with you when you’re sick than not with you at all.” Jesse leaned over and kissed the tip of Hanzo’s nose. “Now, are you ready for some tea and maybe a little solid food? Gotta get your strength back up.” He vanished to the kitchen for a few minutes, and returned with tea and toast. While Hanzo did his best with the food, Jesse put away the clean laundry and brought Hanzo’s recharged phone back to where he’d found it dying on the bedside table.

He sat down again as Hanzo was finishing the cup of tea. “Lena sent me a picture last night. Thought you might like to see it too.” Jesse pulled out his phone and opened the gallery.

Hanzo took the device from his hand, and his eyes widened slightly as he realized what he was looking at. “It does not seem so very long ago,” he said quietly.

“A year already,” replied Jesse.

“A year…” Hanzo looked up into Jesse’s warm grey eyes. “A good year.”

“I hope…” Jesse began, then cleared his throat, suddenly and uncharacteristically shy. “I, uh, hope it’s just the beginning.”

Hanzo opened his mouth to speak, but it took a moment for the words to form as the realization of what his boyfriend was saying hit him. He said the one true thing he could. “I hope so too.”

 


End file.
